


i've been afraid of changing (cause i built my life around you)

by forbiddenquill



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: After 6B, Basically what I want if Emison truly develops into a romantic relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbiddenquill/pseuds/forbiddenquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t tell what’s real anymore,” Alison says, breathless and scared, clutching Emily like she’s the last thing on earth that matters. Her blue eyes are wild and frantic, desperate even—desperate for answers, desperate for peace, desperate for love.</p><p>(But love for her is a handsome man sporting a Medical degree and a ring in his finger; love for her is not the girl who loved her silently all those years back, before she ever met the handsome man who actually finished college.)</p><p>Emily looks at her, thinks I should kiss you, and doesn’t.</p><p>(or: Emily and Alison after the downfall.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've been afraid of changing (cause i built my life around you)

**Author's Note:**

> So I was like "never going to watch PLL again because they're never making Emison canon" but boom, hey, Tumblr reached out to me and I've been slightly more obsessed with this show than I used to be before. 
> 
> This whole fic was inspired by that moment of pause between Emily and Alison after Ali says, "I can't tell what's real anymore." Because to be honest, I seriously think that Emily wanted to kiss her right there and then.
> 
> Marlene, I've been dragged back to hell a couple of times before. Make Emison canon or fuck it.

_“I can’t tell what’s real anymore_ ,” Alison says, breathless and scared, clutching Emily like she’s the last thing on earth that matters. Her blue eyes are wild and frantic, desperate even—desperate for answers, desperate for peace, desperate for _love_.

(But love for her is a handsome man sporting a Medical degree and a ring in his finger; love for her is not the girl who loved her silently all those years back, before she ever met the handsome man who actually finished college.)

Emily looks at her, thinks _I should kiss you_ , and doesn’t.

…

Emily plays this moment over and over again in her head when they lock Elliot Rollins alongside Mary Drake. She watches as Toby personally walks over to clasp the handcuffs on his wrists, his face grim but determined. Rollins doesn’t resist, just holds his head high with his lips set in a straight line. He hasn’t asked nor pleaded for an early release.

Emily stares at the back of Alison’s head and Alison, almost as if sensing it, turns her head and looks at her.

There are tears in her eyes and Emily, her throat dry and her eyes even drier, tries not to feel relieved.

…

 _I should’ve kissed you_ , Emily thinks when Ali shows up in the middle of the night to collapse into her arms, sobbing with the remains of her heart in her hands.

 _I should’ve kissed you_ , Emily thinks again when Ali asks to stay, because she can’t stand being in a home with too many memories, both good and bad.

 _I should’ve kissed you_ , Emily thinks again when Ali falls asleep in her bed and she moves to take her place in the couch, her hands shaking with the possibility of another chance.

…

Ali has nightmares every night, of her mother’s face, of Wilden’s bloody hands, of Rollins’s smile whenever he kissed her. Emily knows, because she asks whenever she comes into the room and soothes the blonde back to sleep. Emily knows, because Ali falls back to sleep retelling the horrors of her dreams. Emily knows, because she spends the rest of the night snuggled next to Alison and smoothing out every whimper that escapes out of her mouth.

She always leaves at the crack of dawn, before Ali wakes up.

…

Spencer breaks up with Caleb and moves away.

Hanna breaks off her engagement with Jordan and leaves too.

It is Aria who stays—for the book, for Ezra, for Ali, she doesn’t say. She digs in her heels and moves in back to her house, even though it pains her to do so.

Emily stays as well and everybody knows she’s staying for Alison and Alison only.

…

Ali is heartbroken, rightfully so. Her sister is dead, her husband tortured her mentally and it’s like she’s lost her whole family over again.

Emily bites her tongue when she almost says _but you haven’t lost me yet_.

…

“God, are you still hung up on Ali?” Hanna mockingly asks when they video chat one night.

Emily _almost_ shakes her head but ends up just sighing. “I am not,” she weakly mutters.

“Please.” Hanna is sporting a glass of red wine and a memory of fifteen-year-old Alison DiLaurentis pops up in Emily’s head. “Ever since you stepped back into that town, your feelings have been way off the charts.”

“Geez, you could’ve told me to lay it low.”

“I couldn’t,” Hanna states casually, staring at her empty glass with a wistful look on her face, “We were both facing something we couldn’t let go of. I would’ve been a hypocrite if I told you to go after her when I couldn’t even move on from—”

The name doesn’t come out but it’s not unheard. Emily catches sight of Hanna’s tearful eyes and wants to hug her. But she can’t. Because distance, obviously.

“We had everything worked out years ago,” Emily says suddenly.

Hanna smiles sadly, puts down her wine glass. “Yeah,” she agrees, “we did.”

…

Alison is back to teaching high school at Rosewood High. Emily goes back to Hollis to finish her degree.

They live in different places, Emily at her dorm room and Alison staying at Pam Field’s place. Once or twice a week, they meet up and catch up. Ali talks of a few potential writers in her class, Emily curses her Psych professor more times than she can count. Ali doesn’t mention Charlotte or Rollins, Emily doesn’t bring those names up. Ali asks how she’s doing and Emily _almost_ says the truth.

But she just smiles and says, “I’m great.”

…

Jason comes back from wherever he was and visits the sister he left behind amidst all the chaos.

He knocks on the door when Emily and Ali are in the kitchen baking cookies and is more than surprised when Ali drops her tray and rushes over to give him a hug. Emily catches the alarm in Jason’s eyes and tries not to laugh. She watches as brother and sister hold each other tightly, Jason resting his chin on top of Alison’s head and Alison with her shoulders shaking.

She understands Ali’s need to hold on tightly to the family she has left, the family she hasn’t lost to tragedy yet.

…

“I barely recognize her,” Jason mumbles when he takes Emily out for some drinks. He orders her some gin for her but keeps to water for himself. ( _Practicing_ , he says when Emily asks.)

“Is that such a bad thing?” Emily asks, playing with her drink. 

He looks at her, smiles the trademark DiLaurentis smile and shakes his head. “It’s a lot of things,” he tells her, “but bad is definitely not one of them.”

“Good,” Emily agrees. Then she drops her gaze to the table and sighs. “She’s changed a lot, you know.”

“Yeah,” Jason whispers, glancing at her, “you’ve had a part in that, I suppose.”

Emily doesn’t say anything. Jason chuckles and sips his glass of water.

…

Sometimes, when Emily can’t sleep, she thinks back to that moment back at the church, when Ali thought she was losing her mind and Emily thought she was losing her. She thinks back to that sharp moment of clarity when Alison told her she didn’t know what was real anymore and to the pause that followed after the admission of those words.

She should’ve kissed her, should’ve leaned forward and pressed her lips to hers, should’ve grabbed the first opportunity to show her that she—she _what_? That even after all these years, she still loved her? That even though she was already married to someone else (a sick psycho at that), she still did? Alison would’ve stared at her like she was crazy.

And maybe Emily is. Maybe she is really, fucking crazy in love with Alison.

…

Aria drops by her dorm room one Saturday morning just as Emily is packing her things for the weekend. She plans to spend the next two days with Alison at the nearest getaway from the town and anything remotely resembling technology or any sort of media press. People are still talking, whispering behind their backs. Emily can’t stand it.

“Aria,” Emily says, surprised to find the short brunette standing before her, “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” Aria answers, moving into the room. Emily shuts the door.

“Okay, what is it?”

“First of all.” Aria drops down on the bed, smiles at the pictures all littered around the walls and turns back to Emily, her smile dimming slightly. Then she says something that completely throws Emily off her game, “You need to ask Alison out. It’s killing me just watching the two of you tiptoe around each other like a bunch of high school girls.”

“I wasn’t tiptoe—” Emily begins but Aria cut her off,

“ _Emily_. Please. It’s obvious. You and I both know it.” She reaches for the dresser and grabs the picture frame with fifteen-year-old Emily and Alison smiling at the camera. Pointing at it, she adds, “This? Total proof that you still have feelings for her and its okay to admit it.”

Emily crosses her arms and glares. Aria returns her glare with one of her carefully crafted stares.

“Second of all,” Aria smoothly begins, returning the frame back to its place, “I’m leaving next week for Boston. I just wanted to say goodbye just in case I can’t catch you while you’re off studying. It’s for the book.”

“Are you going with Ezra?” Emily asks, feeling her heart crack at the thought of her best friend leaving. _Again_.

Aria doesn’t quite meet her gaze. “Yes,” she answers.

“I’m happy for you,” Emily tells her earnestly and Aria’s smile returns.

“Go ask Ali out,” she responds.

...

Emily doesn’t ask Alison out. It’s been three months after Rollins’s arrest and she still finds Alison rubbing the place where her wedding ring used to be.

…

She and Toby catch up over some coffee. He’s on a break from Yvonne and Emily bites her tongue when she nearly asks if it’s because of Spencer, or the election, or everything that’s happened between.

Toby looks older, well over thirty, in fact. It must be because of the shadows under his eyes and the beard that’s slowly growing out on his chin. His smile is tinged with sadness and he has to wear glasses more often than he has to. His hands shake when he talks about Yvonne, his throat cracks when he asks how Spencer is.

Maybe Emily isn’t the only one dealing with first loves coming back.

…

“Do you want to watch a movie?” asks Alison one day when Emily drops by for a visit at the school.

Emily looks up from where she’s perched on top of a table. Ali isn’t looking at her, too busy arranging essays and papers. The brunette catches sight of the girl’s loopy handwriting and tries to form a few words.

“Now?” is what comes out.

Ali raises her eyebrows at the essays but her lips curl into a half smile. “If you agree,” she murmurs.

“Aren’t you busy?” Emily asks, gesturing at the papers.

It’s been four months since Rollins. Alison still hasn’t brought his name up in broad daylight, only in hushed breaths when she wakes up from dreaming about him. Emily wonders if she’ll ever say it out loud.

“I am,” Ali begrudgingly admits, finally locking gazes with Emily, “but since you always make time for me, I figured that I should make time for you as well. Come on, Em. How about a movie? I’ll pay for everything.”

Emily’s tongue form the words _you don’t have to_ but she sees the open and anxious look on Ali’s face and decides to go along with it. The only people Ali ever sees nowadays are her students, her coworkers, Pam Fields and Emily. Maybe the girl needs to stretch her legs out, breathe in a place where Rollins hasn’t been.

So, fighting against her own logic, she smiles and says, “Sure.”

…

The movie is okay. Predictable but okay. Ali’s hand lies limp in the space between them and maybe in another universe, Emily would actually have the guts to reach out and hold it.

…

The next few weeks are mostly the same. Emily leaves the campus every Saturday morning and returns late every Sunday night. She calls Ali every lunch break and they talk on the phone, like a duo of best friends who haven’t seen each other all year long. Whenever she sees Alison, the blonde looks better with lesser shadows and more smiles.

But she still hasn’t completely talked about Rollins or Charlotte. Emily knows that it’s just dying to burst out of her but Ali is surely taking her time in untangling her feelings and accepting the fact that her sister is really gone and her husband is locked up in jail.

Emily isn’t too keen to talk about anything Rollins related but she’s glad that Ali’s doing it in the best way.

…

Spencer calls out of the blue one day. When Emily manages to wiggle out of her English class, she nearly sags in relief at the sound of her best friend’s voice.

“Spence,” Emily exhales the name.

“Hi, Em,” Spencer says in return and there seems to be a smile in her voice, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Emily leans against the wall, wipes some tears from her eyes. “Because out of nowhere, you suddenly packed up and left. How are things? How’s DC?”

“DC’s good,” Spencer says, sounding thoughtful, “Everything’s good here, don’t worry. Anyway, I called to ask about you and…Rosewood.” She says the town’s name like it’s a curse.

Emily tells her about what she’s been doing for the past few months, how Ali’s getting better and how she’s working her way to a degree. Spencer listens intently, says nothing when Emily mentions Toby and laughs when the brunette shares a horrible experience with some keg and a professor who wandered into the wrong building.

Hearing Spencer’s laugh triggers a wave of nostalgia to rush over Emily.

“Hey,” she murmurs, “I miss you guys.”

“I miss you too.” Spencer’s tone makes it clear that she’s holding back a few tears, which is sort of funny, because Spencer trying not to cry is like Spencer withholding herself from coffee. She simply can’t do it.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Emily whispers, biting back a tiny whimper.

“Promise,” Spencer easily agrees, “and oh, Em?”

“Yeah?”

“Aria filled me in. Ask Ali out. You deserve to be happy too.”

Before Emily can outrageously reply, Spencer hangs up.

…

There’s a pretty girl in her class whom Emily always spots eyeing her. Auburn hair, green eyes and an attractive smile. Her name is Rose and it’s purely out of curiosity that Emily asks her out on a date.

Rose accepts without a moment’s pause.

When Ali finds out, she doesn’t look happy. Not at all.

…

Emily and Rose go out on a few dates. It’s terrible timing, especially since Ali needs her but Emily figures that she deserves a little time away from Rosewood and her suffocating feelings for a certain blonde. So, she doesn’t leave the campus on Saturdays and holds back from calling Ali during lunch breaks but it’s enough, she guesses. It’s enough. She needs time to evaluate herself before diving back into these feelings.

Rose is simple, not complicated and she makes Emily forget.

But Emily still breaks things off for one reason only. She’s not Alison.

…

“I thought you were supposed to ask Ali out,” Hanna idly says when they Skype one night, “and not some random girl you just met in class.”

Emily purses her lips, exhales through her nose and shakes her head. “Aria told you too, huh?”

“In excruciating detail, I’m afraid.”

She guesses that Aria must feel bad about leaving in such a hurry and therefore has asked the rest of the girls to push her into the direction of Alison, which kind of places her in a position where everybody is waiting for her next move. She suspects that Ali must be waiting too.

“She just lost her husband,” Emily murmurs and judging from the look Hanna gives her, it’s clear that she doesn’t believe a word of it.

“That was nearly eight months ago,” Hanna shoots back, “and it’s not like he was a good guy who died in war or something. He fucking messed with her head and got caught doing it. Em, _please_ , the woman is divorced for God’s sake.”

“Exactly,” Emily murmurs, rubbing her eyes tiredly, “She’s divorced and I doubt a divorced woman would ever go on a date with me.”

Hanna laughs, almost mockingly. When Emily glares at her through the camera lens, the other girl just shrugs and says, “I can name a few people who’d want to go on a date with Emily Fields.”

…

Emily doubts that Alison is in that list.

…

“So, uh, whatever happened to that girl?” Ali asks one day when Emily drops by her mother’s house for a visit. Alison and Pam have gotten pretty close these past few months and Emily is more than relieved when she sees the two of them laughing at the porch and drinking wine when she arrives home from Hollis.

Emily stiffens. “Oh, you mean Rose?” she says, her throat dry. “Nothing. It just wasn’t working out.”

They’re both in the kitchen; Pam has retreated upstairs to rest. Ali has her arms crossed, her eyebrows raised and there’s a certain aura there that reminds Emily of when they were younger and Ali knew she was lying.

“Why?” Ali asks, like she’s a nine-year-old nagging her parents.

Emily tries to think, turning her face away. Rose was—how could she put it into words? Not what she was looking for? And what, exactly, is she looking for? _Alison_ , obviously.

“I didn’t really want to date,” Emily mumbles, washing her hands and wiping it off with the nearest cloth.

“You asked her out first, didn’t you?”

“I was testing the waters.”

“ _Emily_.” There’s a hint of exasperation there and when Emily turns, Ali is glaring at her. “Can’t you at least look at me when you answer?”

This is the voice Ali uses in classrooms, Emily believes; her _I’m-the-teacher-and-you’re-the-student_ tone that leaves no room for argument. But as Emily stands there and sees the scowl on the blonde’s face, she also knows that this is the voice Ali used when they were kids, that bitingly sharp tone that made fourteen-year-old Emily hang her head in shame.

Old habits die hard and Emily sighs, looks down at the floor. “Sorry,” she mutters, “but yes, Rose and I simply just didn’t work.”

“And what works for you?” Alison asks, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer. “Does _this_ work? Do—Do _we_ work?”

In a matter of seconds, the temperature in the room rises and Emily feels her cheeks burn. She has no idea what’s happening but Ali’s face is full of pure determination and she’s taking another step and she’s stretching her hand and—

Emily steps back, heart in her throat. Ali senses the rejection and drops her hand.

“I—” _I should’ve kissed you back at the church_ , she wants to say, _before we ever found out that Rollins was the one doing that to you, before he tore you apart._ But instead, she swallows back her heart and says, “I have to go.”

Ali doesn’t move when Emily steps out of her way.

…

Pam finds her at her father’s grave. There’s a slight drizzle of rain and Emily’s clothes are soaked through. Her mother brings an umbrella, sits next to her on the grass and waits it out.

“How’s Ali?” Emily finally asks, her voice cracking.

“Dejected,” Pam answers.

“Oh God.” Emily feels like a teenager, anxious and confused. She wipes the tears that she’s mistaken for raindrops and turns to her mother, who is staring at her quietly. “I messed up, didn’t I?”

“You kind of did, honey.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Pam’s smile is a bit weary, tinged with sadness. Maybe she’s tired of waiting for Emily to make a move too or maybe she’s just tired of seeing Emily so lonely, the same way Alison is. Emily thinks back to that conversation years ago, when Pam had admitted to wanting to see them together, as a couple.

“Let me tell you a secret,” Pam whispers, her tone hushed as she holds her daughter’s hand, “No one ever knows what they’re doing.”

…

It’s been ten months since Rollins was locked up, ten months since that night at the church, ten months since Ali was last married to a man who ruined her life. It’s been ten months and yet, Emily can still hear Ali’s voice in her ear, terrified and breathless— _I can’t tell what’s real anymore_.

…

Emily wants to tell her.

Emily wants to hold her hand, look her in the eye and tell her that _this_ is real. Emily’s feelings since they were children— _that’s_ real. Not her two-faced husband who made her think she was losing her mind, not the man who smiled and told her that everything was okay, not the life she thought she was marrying into— _that_ wasn’t real anymore. What Emily felt—what she feels—that’s the only real thing that matters in the world that’s crumbled and fallen apart more times than she can count.

Emily wants to tell her all the things that she’s wanted to say since they were kids, wants to tell her that she’s _real_ and she’s _here_ and she’s not going anywhere, wants to tell her ‘ _I love you_ ’ like it’s the only thing that truly matters anymore.

Emily should’ve kissed her that night.

…

Alison is in the guest bedroom when Emily returns. She’s wearing pajamas and sitting by the window, staring into the driveway. She rubs the place where the ring used to be and Emily feels a stab of heartache in her chest as she steps forward.

“Ali,” she calls.

The blonde turns slowly. There are tears in her eyes and she quickly wipes them away. “Hi, Emily,” she greets, forcing a tight smile.

“Can I sit here?” Emily asks, gesturing to the empty seat next to her. Ali nods.

Emily takes her place. They are quiet and the only sounds they can hear are that of the cars driving past the house and of Pam quietly retreating back to her room, as if she knows that much is to be talked about tonight and that hearts are either going to be mended or torn apart.

They sit in silence for as long as they are able to. Finally, when Emily notices the clock moving to 11 PM, she turns her attention to Ali and is surprised to find the blonde already looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” Alison says in a rush, her cheeks red, “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, Ali,” Emily whispers, giving her a small smile, “I’m the one who has to apologize. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Em,” Alison says, stops touching the place where Dr. Rollins placed a ring on her finger and sighs. “You don’t have to make excuses for yourself. You don’t feel the same way anymore, I get it.”

“It’s not that I don’t feel the same way,” Emily finds herself saying, curses herself for literally having no brain-to-mouth filter and flinches slightly when Alison quickly turns towards her, hope flaring in her eyes. “It’s just, I’m afraid I’m not what you’re looking for—”

“No,” Ali cuts her off cleanly and there is not a hint of confusion in her tone when she adds, “You are _exactly_ what I am looking for.”

…

“ _I can’t tell what’s real anymore_ ,” Alison sobs, her shoulders shaking and her chest heaving. There are tears streaming down her cheeks and Emily is stunned, shocked, afraid to speak and—

“ _I’m real_ ,” she wishes this is what she had said instead.

…

“I should’ve kissed you that night,” Emily suddenly says.

Alison meets her gaze, confused. “What night?” she asks.

Feeling bold, Emily reaches over and takes hold of Ali’s hand. The blonde quickly intertwines their fingers together and it’s comforting just holding her palm and it reminds Emily of the times they’ve held hands for comfort and support.

“The night you were at the church and you thought that Wilden and your mom were haunting you,” Emily murmurs, tracing lazy patterns across the back of Ali’s hand. She pauses, waits for Alison’s reaction. “The night you couldn’t tell what was real anymore,” she adds softly. “I should’ve kissed you then.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Ali questions, sort of demands it even.

“Because you were married and in love with someone else.” It’s a clear and sound answer. Emily’s heart aches when it comes out straight out of her mouth with no hesitation whatsoever. And now it’s Ali’s turn to be stunned speechless. Taking these few precious seconds, Emily continues, her tone tight, “I wish I had kissed you, before we found out about Roll—about your husband. It would’ve given me a sense of peace, knowing that I had tried my best not to fully let you go.”

“I don’t understand,” Ali confesses.

Emily shakes her head, sighs and squeezes the blonde’s hand. “What I’m trying to say is,” she begins, “I’m not sure if you’re ready yet. You lost your sister and your husband nearly in one week and I—God, Ali, I’m such a mess. I haven’t even freaking graduated yet and the only thing that’s stable in my life right now is my mom and—and _you_.”

Ali searches her face, as if looking for a lie. When she finds none, her features soften. “Emily, I want you,” she says, truthful and honest and Emily feels as if the blonde has thrust her entire heart into her hands, “I’ve wanted you for a long time now and yes, I admit that I was blindsided by plenty of things, like Lorenzo and—and Elliot.” Her voice cracks at the name and out of habit, she touches her ring finger. “But,” she adds, keeping her gaze fixed on the brunette, “you are the one that I want. Now and forever.”

…

“ _Friends forever, right?_ ” Fourteen-year-old Alison asks from her where she’s seated on her bed, her eyes fixed on Emily’s face.

“ _Now and forever_ ,” Emily responds, shy and anxious but completely certain.

…

“I’m yours,” Ali continues when Emily doesn’t respond, her tone firm but her eyes full of anxiety and fear and her heart stuck in her throat. “God, Emily, I’ve always been yours,” Alison says, voice cracking, “but when will you ever be mine?”

…

“ _What was she like? Your friend_?”

“ _Alison was plenty of things_ ,” Emily tells a curious Maya one month after Alison’s funeral, “ _but she was never mine_.”

“ _But you were hers, I presume_?” There’s a hint of a teasing tone in Maya’s voice, one that Emily doesn’t question.

 _“I always was_.”

…

“Ask me again,” Emily states.

Alison looks at her, slightly afraid but more curious than ever. “Emily,” she obliges, licking her lips nervously as she tightens her hold on her hand, “Will you be mine?”

“I always was,” Emily answers, as simple and as complicated as that.

When they kiss (Alison smiling so hard that it’s messy and new and fucking adorable and Emily trying to keep her crying to a minimum), Emily wishes that she hadn’t waited ten months (more like ten _years_ ) for _this_.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't wait for canon Emison.


End file.
